


Spy On Me

by elinorofealdor



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, actor as character, ran out of time, sss, sunday smut, tbc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinorofealdor/pseuds/elinorofealdor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the SSS "Secret Agent Man"<br/>Due to life and stuff -- and my inability to just dive into smut without some plot --  this work is not at all complete, but I'm kind of excited to finish it.<br/>Agent Hiddleston is in charge of protecting a valuable asset, but when a night of intensity leaves them both weary and vulnerable, will he acknowledge she's more than just a job?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He leaned against the bar, smoothing a hand down his chest, resisting the urge to sigh. As the bartender prepared his martini and her Derby, he scanned the room again for any sign of threats. Protection details were generally dull affairs, even when your charge has four different contracts out on their life. He watched her from twenty paces, chatting with several dull, stuffy businessmen.  
At least she didn’t seem to resent him, nor was she fawning over him. Those extremes would have driven him mad. As it was, the only thing driving him mad aside from boredom was her, in that dress, with those eyes. The dossier showed her as a rather pretty in a plain way -- long brown hair, pale skin, full lips, a nose which was anything but dainty -- with characteristics expected of her status: dance and equestrian training, spoke six languages, studied literature and the culinary arts. She dated investment bankers, artists, and software engineers. This last category was her connection to the current predicament for both of them. Her now ex-in-every-sense-of-the-word had developed a new form of anti-identity-theft security which had garnered the attention of several criminal organizations who were quite eager to stop such developments. After taking care of the engineer, they learned his recent ex had been given access to his files and backups, and was now the only person able to access that research. Now his agency had been pulled into the mess to protect her, and by extension the information. It was a priority, needing someone of his skills, training, instinct, and breeding, but god did he loathe babysitting. Even if the dossier left out several of her much more appealing qualities.  
The bartender slid the drinks on the counter to him as he slipped a ten into the tip jar. He picked up his martini, took a sip, nodded to the bartender, then grabbed her drink and sauntered over to her. Her polite smiles and nods at the three men vying for attention turned to a flash of relief as he came up beside her.  
“Here you are, miss,” he said, handing her the drink.  
She took it without looking to him, nodding to dismiss her admirers. “Thank you for your time gentlemen, but I have a private matter to discuss with my security.”  
The men nodded sympathetically, one even giving ‘security’ the once over and making a disparaging remark about quality muscle that made the agent want to punch him in the throat. He covered by simply taking another sip of his drink as the other men scattered.  
She turned to him and her polite, weary smile turned to one of genuine appreciation. Holding her glass up to him, he brought it to meet hers with a soft clink. “Thank you for that rescue. Hopefully it’s the only one you’ll have to worry about tonight.”  
“Indeed,” he clipped and they both sipped their drinks.  
“Anyone ever tell you the stuffy James Bond thing isn’t as subtle, or sexy, as it’s played out to be in the movies?”  
He was about to hit her with a scathing retort, but the playfulness in her eyes stopped him. That was one of the things the dossier couldn’t show. The upturn of a corner of those full lips, painted in a deep shade of crimson which compliment her charcoal cocktail dress and matched her Louboutins, the brightness of her pale eyes assessing him with curiosity, and intelligence born of more than school studies. He felt her reading him with every glance, gauging his reactions and skills as much as he was hers. Wealthy, sophisticated girls were not supposed to be this intoxicating to a mind like his, and yet here she was, disarming him.  
He sighed. “They try to train it out of us, but for some it’s just how we’re made.”  
Her laughter disarmed him further. “You purr that line so well. I bet it makes most of your charges quiver for your touch.”  
The flirting and jibing wasn’t in the dossier either. She found him attractive, yes, seemed to see him as intriguing, too. However, she wasn’t trying to seduce him, or appear the giggly, naive schoolgirl. Her jests and ribald humour were just parts of her.  
He was about to reply when the music struck up again, and she smiled. “Come on, Bond, how about you show me what kind of dance training your agency gives.”  
The statement phrased as a question made him smile back. “You want to be left alone by your admirers, and yet you want to show off?”  
She took his drink from his hand, took another swig of hers, then set them both on a table at her side. “No. I want to show you off.”  
Grabbing his hand as he fought the stammer from his reply, she pulled him toward the dancefloor. “Dancing with your security. Whatever will the people think?”  
She glanced back at him, still smiling. “I don’t care.”  
They reached the dance floor as the music swelled for a waltz. His arms took their positions, and as he clasped her hand in his, their gaze met and her smile faded. He stepped forward on the beat, and they were off.  
At times for him, dancing distracted his focus on a mission. Not because he had trouble dancing -- on the contrary, he loved it. Trying to recall and impress with his steps detracted from the myriad of procedural activities flashing through his mind as he actually tried to have a bit of fun. Yet suddenly, with her in his arms, he found a balance of focus. Not only did he enjoy dancing with her, he became hyper alert to everything around them. Of particular note was his charge, her graceful ease in his embrace, her attentive gaze, her hand which draped over his shoulder sliding up to the base of his neck, bringing them closer together. Her chest, ample even within the corseted undergarments, pressed against his as their feet glided in rhythm across the floor. When one of her fingers brushed lightly up his neck he almost shuddered at the touch. For a brief moment he lost focus on the mission and found himself only wanting to press his lips to hers. Then focus came rocketing back as a loud gasp came from the crowd on the edge of the dancefloor. His head snapped around and he saw the gun raised just in time to shift the hand holding hers to the back of her head before dropping them both to the floor.  
His body covered hers as the shot rang out, sailing a few feet above them. He had gone to reach for the sidearm in his jacket, but her hand beat his to it.  
“No wait--” but his words were cut off by her firing two shots at their assailant.  
She hit him square in the chest and the man dropped. They rose, amid a room now full of shocked screams, gasps, and nearing panic.  
“That wasn’t the best idea,” he remarked.  
“Didn’t see you having a better one,” she quipped in return.  
He took one of her hands, and felt it trembling. “I didn’t mean shooting him. I meant you shooting him.”  
“You upset I did your job for you?”  
Her tone was sharp, but he could see the fear in her eyes. For reasons he couldn’t have explained, he brought her hand to his lips. “Come on. It’s time we got you somewhere safer.”  
She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it and nodded. The inquiry with building security and police presence was brief, and he had her out and waiting for the valet in under ten minutes. He was probably going to get a reaming from his superiors for several offenses, but at least she was safe. He drove her back to her home in silence, her head turned away from him, her gaze fixed out beyond the roads and the buildings they passed.  
“You shoot people a lot in your line of work, yes?”  
Her voice was soft, inquiring.  
“Sometimes. Not as often as the movies would have you believe.”  
“I don’t -- I mean I haven’t--” She broke off and he glanced to her. Tears had formed in the corner of her eye and she blinked them away.  
“It’s not easy, what you did. And you certainly aren’t lacking the skill.”  
“I learned to shoot as a child. Guns, arrows, even throwing knives and axes.”  
“Fencing?”  
She nodded. “It’s different, though. Targets aren’t people.”  
“They’re not.”  
“But people are targets for you, sometimes.”  
He sighed. Existentialism and personal analysis were common effects of mortally wounding another person, but not ones he felt an urge to open up about. He had a job to do, and he had already let himself become distracted by her allure. No. He shook his head now. That wasn’t her fault. He glanced to her again. “I shouldn’t really tell you about -- what I do.”  
“I know,” she replied, turning to look at him with a sad smile. “It’s not part of your job to open up to me. And I don’t doubt you would have done what I did if you hadn’t had your arms wrapped around me. You did save me, and I appreciate that, even if it’s just an annoying job for you. You still did it.”  
“It’s not annoying,” he tried and she gave him a cutting glance. “You’re not annoying,” he said softly, as he pulled up to her house, hitting the gate opener on the visor. They drove up to the house and he parked outside the garage. He came around to her door and opened it for her, offering his hand. She took it and he noted again it still trembled a bit.  
“You should have a shower, or a bath, something to relax you,” he said as they walked toward the front door.  
“Not sure that’ll be enough,” she sighed.  
He opened the door, holding her back for a moment as he entered first to ensure it was safe. He looked back to her and smiled. “I could make us a couple drinks, if you like.”  
A smile ghosted her lips. “We didn’t get to finish ours.”  
“Then let’s.”  
She stepped inside and he closed and locked the door behind her. She slipped off her shoes and set them by the door. He smiled down at her, now almost a foot shorter than him without the heels. She padded toward the kitchen as he took off his jacket and hung it on the rack near the door. He slipped his own shoes off then followed her.  
He heard the light switch flick on in the kitchen, and then a muffled gasp. His hand flew to his gun, pulling it from the waistcoat holster as he stepped toward the kitchen.  
“Kate?” He asked in a smooth tone. “Everything alright?”  
No reply came, and he clicked the safety off the gun. He moved through the foyer and sitting room, then down the hall. The kitchen light shone out of the doorway and he called for her again.  
“Kate. Where are you?”  
He heard a muffled protest and grit his teeth. No one was supposed to be around except maybe the head of security patrolling the grounds. He approached the doorway and turned into it, gun ready, and his face heated with fury. Kate stood on tip toe, lifted in one arm by her head of security. The six and a half foot man was several inches taller and twice as broad as the agent. He had Kate pressed against his body, a large knife at her throat.  
“What is this about?” The agent breathed.  
“Bounty on her is up to twenty million, agent Hiddleston. For that price I’ll split it with you.”  
Kate’s eyes grew wide, as Hiddleston sighed. The head of security was new, but he had cleared every check. Everyone had a price, money or otherwise.  
“The bounty is for her alive,” Hiddleston countered.  
“Oh, I don’t want her dead. But I can’t have you in my way. Seems to me you either lose your job and your charge, or you lose your job and make ten million. Not exactly a difficult choice in my mind.”  
Agent Hiddleston took one look at Kate, her eyes pleading for life, before he looked back to the guard. “Nor in mine.”  
He flicked the safety on, set his gun on the counter, then opened one of the drawers and slid it inside. Closing the drawer, he held his hands up. “Alright, look. I’m not in this to get rich by stepping on your plans. I’ll take five, if you tell me how we get out of this and get her where she needs to go. Safely.”  
The guard eyed him, then set the knife back in the knife block, one arm still keeping Kate firmly pressed against his chest.  
“You can both go fuck yourselves,” she spat.  
“Now, now, Kate,” agent Hiddleston said calmly. “No need for vulgarity. Is there my friend?”  
“Well,” the guard smiled. “Maybe a little.”  
“I see.”  
Barely had the words left Hiddleston’s mouth, and the guard yelped, dropping Kate. He bent over. “You bitch,” he snarled.  
Hiddleston skirted the island between them as Kate scrambled in the other direction.  
“Bitch dug her nails into my dick,” the guard said as he started to rise.  
“Good for her,” the agent replied. He grabbed the guard’s head and slammed his face against his knee. There was a small crack. “I believe that was your nose.”  
The guard drove himself forward, slamming his body into Hiddleston and plowing toward the wall. The agent’s back smashed into the wall and he groaned. He clasped his hands together and smashed the ‘guard’ in the back of the head. The man grunted, then pounded a fist into Hiddleston’s side. The agent nailed the other man in the shin with his foot and wriggled from his grasp. Hiddleston stumbled off to the side and stood, ready to strike again when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Kate had scrambled around the island and pulled the gun from the drawer.  
He glanced to her and shook his head. The look of fury that met her eyes struck him, but instead of firing, she tossed the gun to him. He snagged it mid-air, grabbing it by the barrel and immediately hit the guard with the butt on the temple as the man was rising. The guard grunted, then collapsed.  
Hiddleston pulled his mobile from his pants pocket and dialed his agency contact.  
“Hiddleston here. This whole evening has been cocked up. I need transport and a safehouse for Miss Miller, and a rehab team, now.”  
They gave him an ETA of five minutes and he ended the call.  
“Rehab team?”  
He shrugged, and felt his back sting with pain. He stepped toward Kate and she stepped back.  
“Kate,” he said firmly. “You need to pack a bag. Essentials only. Be ready to leave in four minutes.”  
“Will he--”  
“I’ll watch him.”  
“Like you watched me?”  
“We do not have time for this.”  
“You were going to sell me out,” she cried.  
“I bloody well was not,” he shot back. “I haven’t spent three weeks getting to know you to see some thug take you down.”  
She seethed, slammed a heel on the floor, then brushed past him and marched away toward her rooms. Only after her footsteps faded and he turned back to keep an eye on the unconscious guard did he realize his words. He’d meant to say he was doing his job. She was a valuable asset, a target to be protected. Yet somehow she’d become more. Someone worthy of his time and attention outside the parameters of his duty. He ran a hand through his hair. “Shit,” he muttered before the sound of vehicles speeding up the gravel drive brought him back to the moment.  
The guard was loaded into a van bound and moaning. He reported on the events of the night and was given the info for the hotel to take her to until a different house could be secured. Kate was checked over for injury and told to see one of their counselors in a few days about tonight’s trauma. A junior agent put her two bags in a new car, followed by one of Hiddleston’s, before the pair got in.  
They were silent all the way to the hotel, and once in the rooms, Kate would not look at him. She unpacked a bit, then went into the bathroom. Once agent Hiddleston heard the shower turn on, he called down to room service for replications of their drinks from earlier and a pitcher of water as well as two fresh baked pretzels, a large green salad, and a meat and cheese platter. Kate had just shut off the water when he opened the door to receive their order. He tipped the young man, then brought the cart into the room himself.  
Kate emerged a few minutes later in a hotel robe, fingers combing through her hair. She looked at the cart, then to Hiddleston, and a weary smile crossed her lips. “Thank you.”  
“It’s the least I could do.” He plucked their drinks from a tray and held hers out to her. “Shall we perhaps try again?”  
She took her glass and allowed him to clink his against it before taking a sip. “Not as good.”  
“Nor mine.”  
“Agent Hiddleston,” she began.  
“Tom,” he cut in. “Please. I think we’re past titles.”  
Her eyes flared with an emotion he couldn’t discern, then she nodded. “Tom. Before… what I said about selling me out--”  
“I wouldn’t have. If there had been a way to tell you that… I thought you understood.”  
“I thought I was safe with my security.”  
“Fair point.”  
She moved over to a couch and sat down. Tom picked up the food trays and set them on the large coffee table, then sat on the other couch cornered by hers. They examined the food and selected a few items, eating in silence for a few moments.  
“There’s something else,” Kate finally said, halfway into her drink. “About… all this.”  
“Alright,” he replied, taking a long drink as he watched her. She had turned inward and he found himself yearning to hold her.  
“When I accused you, you didn’t -- you could have defended your job, or your integrity. But that’s not what you said.”  
He swallowed. “I know.”  
“Did you mean it?”  
He closed his eyes. He was going to get so much heat for this. He could lie, but he didn’t want to -- and so did not. “Yes.”  
He opened his eyes when he heard her shift off the couch beside where he was sitting. She moved over and sat beside him. He read her expression and felt a rush of blood to a part of his anatomy that should not be in control right now. “Kate, I like you, immensely. I didn’t expect to, and I’m sorry for everything tonight. I should have been… better. But this -- we can’t--”  
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seduced a girl you’re protecting, or been seduced by one,” she smiled.  
“I have, but not like this.”  
“Not like what?”  
There it was again, that appealing and intense curiosity. Damn her. “Not with someone I could see as… more.”  
The flush that came into her cheeks made him pulse with desire.  
“You’re concerned with what could be. How about taking what’s right in front of you now.”  
“Because you’ve had a traumatic night. You should be taken care of now, not... “  
“Not what?”  
The word spilled out against his better judgement. “Ravaged.”  
She reached out and plucked his glass from his hands. She took a sip of the martini, then reached over his shoulder to set it on a side table beside a lamp. In doing this she slid into his lap. “Then take care of me,” she smirked.  
One look at her face and his resolve crumbled. He leaned in, brushing his lips along her neck, tracing to her lips. When they met, the softness of her plump kiss and citrus-whiskey breath made his desire throb. His hand slipped into her robe and felt her soft flesh give under the gentle squeeze of his fingers. She moaned into his mouth before he began to devour her with kisses. His hands worked each breast in turn, their ample weight and size filling his large palm to overflowing. In a matter of minutes the robe was gone and she was on the bed beneath him, his hands exploring more of her flesh. One of her hands caressed the back of his head and the other worked his hardening shaft through his trousers.  
When her hand drifted higher, undoing his belt, he finally had a moment of pause.  
“Wait,” he murmured, his lips still reluctant to leave her neck and the delicious moans he could elicit from her using his lips.  
“I’m already naked,” she purred. “I don’t want to wait.”  
He chuckled, then placed a soft kiss on her jaw. “Nor do I, but I have a confession.” He pressed himself up and shifted to kneel beside her. He pulled out his belt and dropped it on the floor. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, then the tank underneath. Kate hissed with an intake of breath as he dropped the shirts on the floor. Several large bruises had formed on his back and sides.  
“I’ll be fine,” he said, snagging her hand that had reached out toward a bruise on his side. He kissed her fingers. “But when this happens, I want to be, well, fully capable of fulfilling your every desire.”  
She pouted and he dove back to her lips before adding, “Doesn’t mean I intend to leave you wanting.”  
“What do you -- oh!” He exclamation came as his lips moved from hers to clasp onto a perky, pointed nipple and suck. He worked each breast with his mouth while using his hand to stimulate the other. When his lips trailed back to meet her mouth again, one of his hands trailed down her stomach, tracing along her hips’ curve, then lower. His long, elegant fingers brushed the closely-trimmed hairs covering her most intimate lips, before starting to gently rub and explore their folds.  
When he slid a finger between her lips he groaned.  
“You are so wet,” he purred against her neck, kissing toward her ear. “I’m going to take care of this for you, dear.”  
He softly bit her earlobe as he slipped his index finger into her hot, slick hole, and she moaned his name. “I’m going to make you gush.”


	2. Chapter 2

A hand shot out to grip his arm. He chuckled. “You like that, do you?”  
Her whimpered reply made him grin. “Another time, and I will learn you by watching. Having you show me how you touch yourself to bring the most pleasure. For now,” he continued as he worked a single digit deeper within her, “we will have to be content with my learning through hands-on experience. But I happen to be a pretty quick study.”  
To punctuate this, he flicked his middle finger over her clit. Her fingers dug into his arm more before relaxing.   
“Don’t worry about hurting me,” he said softly, his lips ghosting across her cheek. “I trust you, and even bruised, I’m stronger than I look.”  
His free hand shifted from her chest to her hip, placing it firmly against her. When he crooked his finger within her, hitting the sensitive button with a firm rub of his finger, she made to buck her hips, but his hand held her down.   
“See?” He purred. “You can let yourself go under my touch.”  
“Yes,” she panted. “Yes, please.”  
He lifted his head to gaze at her, those pale grey eyes half-lidded with desire, tongue darting over her full lips, already kiss-swollen from their explorations of each other’s mouths.   
“You are truly a sight,” he said before capturing her lips with his.   
His fingers deftly caressed and probed her, a second finger joining the first within her walls as he began a slow, penetrating, pistoning rhythm. His thumb worked her clit, engorged and sensitive to his every rub and flick. When his lips trailed back down to her breast, he let her back arch naturally to meet his oral ministrations.   
Her breathing became heavier, small gasps and moans coming when he hit her in the right spots. She was guiding him as much as he explored and for that he could have continued using his hands and fingers to explore every inch of her for days. Yet he had a need for release himself, and his desire was driven by her pleasurable sounds and reactions.   
Seeming to sense this, one of her hands traveled to the band of his pants. As he worked two fingers in her, his pace increasing, she slipped a hand inside his trousers, to fondle him over his tight boxer-briefs. When her thumb ran over a damp patch where the head of his straining erection was leaking she hummed in delight.   
“Will you let me learn you?” She cooed.   
He kissed the center of her chest, on the breastbone. “In time. Not tonight.”  
She gave his member a gentle squeeze and it throbbed with need. “I want to take care of this for you.”  
He shifted his head to look at her. Her teasing smile promised she would do all that and more. “You first, darling. And second. And possibly even third. I want your voice hoarse with screaming my name in ecstasy before you bring me to release.”  
With that, he slipped a third finger within her and lessened the pressure on her hip. She bucked and he grinned, raising himself up slightly, out of her grasp, and began a pleasurable assault on her pussy. His long fingers found the right spot time and again, rubbing and brushing against her walls with alacrity and experience until he had to steady her hips just to keep her from rocketing off the bed. When her release came, she cried out a string of expletives that made him grin, and he did not slow his motions until she was panting and grasping at the bedsheets.   
As she began to come down, he withdrew his fingers. On a hunch, he brought his slick hand near her face. She raised her head, sucking her juices off his fingers and he hummed his pleasure. The manner in which she sucked his fingers made his cock throb. He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dove in to kiss her. He savored the tangy, slightly sweet taste of her as their tongues met.   
One of her hands sought the sweet spot at the back of his head, massaging with skilled, delicate fingers at the base of his skull. His kisses worked down her neck to her collarbone when he paused for a quick nip before raising his gaze to hers.   
“You taste divine,” he said in a tone which was both admiring and affirming. “I must have more.”  
A cheeky smile lit her face. “How much more?”  
One of his hands squeezed her right breast, his fingers then toying with a nipple as he returned her smile. “All you can give me.”  
“All?” she challenged with a devious glint in her eyes. “We could be here for days.”  
“Then first one to pass out loses.”  
“And what does the winner get?” She asked with another brazen stroke of his constrained erection.  
“Satisfaction,” he smirked.  
“I’d say that’s part of the deal, win or lose.”  
He laughed, a low, throaty sound full of desire and genuine amusement. “There you are right. Perhaps we should settle terms later. Make this less about competition.”  
“Mmmm,” she mused, then nodded. “But what a competition.”  
“One for another day. For now,” he grasped her hand covering his cock, and brought it to his lips. “Let us find our way more leisurely.”  
He slinked up again to kiss her full lips, tongue sliding over the lower one as she hummed her agreement. His lips and hands moved with purpose down her body, exploring and tender. When he reached her hips, he shifted off the bed, fingers dancing down her calf as her eyes followed his movements. When he reached the end, he clasped her ankles in his hands and gave a firm tug. Knowing his intention, she lifted her hips to aid him and slid rather easily across the silk bedspread until her legs came off it, splayed on either side of him. He released her ankles and barely caught the pillow she took with her as she tossed it at him.   
“If you’re going to explore as meticulously as you claim, you may want that for your knees,” she said with that intoxicating tease of a smile.   
“Your concern is touching,” he smiled back.  
He dropped the pillow on the floor and knelt before her, kissing the inside of her thigh. She giggled, and her fingers ran through his hair, loosing the natural wave from its slightly-moussed hold. When he caressed her slick lips with his, her grip tightened in his hair for a brief moment before her fingers slid along to the back of his head. She deftly assisted again in guiding him to strike the most pleasurable areas and encourage his mouth and fingers to the best actions. He had not played student for quite some time, and would not have traded this tutor for any in the world. Just the murmur of his name on her lips warmed him to the core. When she neared her release again, he wrapped his arms around her at the hips, pulling her tight against his face. She tried to squirm but he held her firm until her screams and shudders subsided and he had drunk her intoxicating elixir to his full.   
“Fuck,” she sighed as he brought her hips back to rest on the bed. “If I had known you so eager I would have pulled you into my room on the fifth day.”  
He kissed the inside of her thigh before chuckling and rising from his knees. “Why the fifth?”  
“Well, the first two you were so -- I don’t want to say stuffy, but--”  
“You can say it,” he smiled. “It’s true. Part of the job.”  
She nodded her understanding. Her gaze following him as he came back around the bed, pillow in hand, and settled beside her.  
“And then on the third day you seemed to relax a bit. Treat it like a job you might actually allow yourself to enjoy on occasion. The fourth day I caught a few looks of yours, but convinced myself you were merely being observant. But day five--”  
He placed a finger on her lips. “I remember.”  
The fifth day of his detail, he was wandering the yard at dawn when he happened to glance up to her room on the second floor. She had just awoken and pulled the curtains aside. Her dressing robe was tied at her waist, but the lightly draped fabric barely covered the openings at her chest and below her waist. She glanced down to him and he looked away. Yet within a few seconds he looked up at the window again. She stood there, watching something in the distance, her intelligent gaze pursing her full lips. As though sensing him, she looked down again. A smile broke her intense look, soft and a bit teasing. He had felt a blush creep into his cheeks, but did not break her gaze. She ran a hand over her shoulder, giving it a brief rub, then trailing her fingers down over the swell of one plump breast. Her smile turned to a smirk before she turned around. She took half a step forward and the robe dropped, giving him a view of an incredibly pert, full, round set of cheeks that almost beckoned him to climb the trellis to her window as they swayed away from view.   
He slid his other hand around to cup one of those cheeks now and gave it a firm squeeze. “You delicious tease.”  
“That wasn’t a tease,” she said after kissing his finger, which he then trailed down over her chin to run along the top of her breasts. “That was an invitation I didn’t think you’d take.”  
“You made up your mind quite early, then.”  
“In comparison to what?”  
“To what I expected.”  
“In fairness to myself, I figured you’d be gone in short order and being as strapping and gorgeous as you are, didn’t want to miss a shot at, well, something like this. But it’s--”  
She paused, and he noticed her gaze reflect inward briefly.   
“What is it?”  
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’m not going to damsel in distress this up and confuse things.”  
He studied her a moment longer, until her hand drifted again to his erection, smoothing over the fabric of his tented pants before giving him a gentle squeeze.   
“All I want now is this… is us.”  
He leaned in and kissed her, her soft flesh yielding to the exploration of his hands as their lips worked her back to near panting with lust. Her hand had continued to work him through his trousers and he had hardly registered that during their making out his hips had begun to gently thrust against her steady grip.   
“If I can’t have you inside me,” she purred, “then at least let me taste you.”  
Her tone held a hint of pleading, but the firmness of her desire countered every argument railing in his mind. He gave no protest to her hand slipping into his pants again, this time delving beneath both layers of fabric to grip his bare shaft in her hand. Her bold strokes, followed by brushing her thumb over his leaking tip caused a groan to escape him. She could have brought him to release with her hand and he’d no doubt it would have been an ecstasy beyond imagining, but when she licked her lips while looking into his eyes with that taunting, devilish gaze, he deferred to her.  
She kissed him again, soft and tantalizing, as her other hand moved with deft fingers undoing his fly. Her hands then roamed over his midsection, gliding and occasionally grasping both taut and soft bits of his flesh. He wiggled a bit to help her shift his trousers and boxers off together, shaking them down his legs and kicking them off the edge of the bed as her hands resumed stroking along his thighs and the v-sweep of his pelvis. Her lips trailed along his neck, and after a soft nibble to his collarbone, continued down his breast bone, his abs, tongue playfully darting along his belly button. The fingers of one hand began a gentle working of the base of his shaft.   
He brushed a section of her hair behind her ear as he watched her work downwards. She pressed a hand on his hip and he shifted to his back. Her lips trailed soft kisses down the sweep of his hips and pelvis, coming to land at the top of a thigh. Giving it a quick nibble, he inhaled through his teeth, almost whistling as his cock twitched. She glanced up to him and smiled, keeping her gaze steady with his as she shifted and kissed the head of his cock before darting her tongue over the tip.   
“You’re delicious,” she smiled.  
“I was thinking the same about you,” he replied, almost groaning with pleasure.   
She kissed the head again before engulfing the head in her mouth and starting a gentle sucking as her hand worked a little faster. He watched her for a moment before his head fell back on the pillows. As she worked him over several minutes, the occasional moan escaped his lips. It was only when he felt her fingers gently working his sac he realized she had taken all of him in her mouth. He raised his head to enjoy the site of her full lips pressed all the way down his shaft, nose grazing his pelvis.   
“Fuck, darling,” he murmured.   
She hummed a pleased-sounding reply, the vibrations causing him to twitch inside her mouth. She eased her mouth up a bit, then swallowed him down again. His hips bucked slightly and he moaned louder.   
He smoothed a hand over the back of her head. “Please, ease off.”  
She tilted her head a bit to connect their gazes and he nodded.   
“Please,” he whispered.   
She dipped her head, easing back again, then sucked him all the way down before sliding her lips up and off. She licked the shaft a few times. When she looked up at him again, his jaw was clenched a bit, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to compose himself.   
“Come here,” he growled, hand squeezing the base of her skull gently.   
She shifted, kissing his hip again as she moved. He guided her to his lips, greeting her with a penetrating kiss. His other hand smoothed along the slope of her shoulder before moving to her breast. He teasingly lifted it with his hand, enjoying hefting the flesh in his fingers.   
Their hands explored one another, not in passionate groping, but in roaming, teasing, learning strokes. Kisses slowed from deep to light, drifting to parts of their faces and necks, meeting again occasionally for caresses and gentle probing. This shifted into an almost sleepy ease. After a bit, she kissed his cheek before saying, “I could use another shower. And I think you could, too.”  
He chuckled, nuzzling her neck. “Not too hot.”  
She pulled back, moving her hands to cradle his face. “You can trust me, Tom.”  
A look flashed in her eyes again he could not read, yet in that moment he felt safe in her touch and nodded.   
In the shower, she used her hands to bring him to release, and after they washed each other between soft kisses. Once dried and back in bed, he pulled the covers up as she reached to turn off the lamp beside the bed.   
“Will we go back in the morning?” She asked as she settled beside him, face to face, running fingers through his damp, tousled hair.   
“No. There’ll need to be some work done to make sure it’s safe for you again.”  
“New security?”  
“Perhaps.”  
She creased her eyebrows before replying. “You think they’ll leave me with you alone?”  
“I don’t know. They may, or they might keep us here until a suitable team can be found again.”  
“Not sure I like the sound of that… team,” she sighed. “Any way I can vet them beforehand?”  
“I’ll ask.”  
“Thank you.”  
He smiled, leaning in to brush his lips over hers. “Rest now. I’m not going anywhere.”  
“So you say,” she murmured with what sounded like doubt, but when he pulled back to look at her, that teasing smile set him more at ease.  
“Sleep, darling,” he purred, kissing her cheek, then neck, before settling a hand on her hip as she shifted her head to rest under his chin. Soon she breathed in a light slumber and he kissed the top of her head before replaying the night’s events in his mind. He often did this to calm himself into sleep, ensuring he had taken every precaution, each step calculated and exacted with precision as best he could. Yet something about it all turned his reflection into concern, and as the hours passed he felt both comforted and worried by her presence.


	3. Chapter 3

His sleep was fitful, and it was before dawn when he slipped away from her, going to look out the window through somewhat parted curtains at the city lights to continue sussing out his unease.  
When she woke shortly after dawn, he sat on the smaller couch, watching her as she stretched and shifted out of slumber. As she realized she was alone in bed, she rose and glanced around the room. When she met his gaze, she smiled, but it faded as she held his look.  
“Tom--”  
“I think perhaps you should go back to calling me ‘agent’ until I actually know who you are.”  
She swallowed, and seemed to shrink before him, a fragility born of circumstance, betraying the strength he had seen in her until now. “I don’t know what--”  
“Stop,” he clipped. “Just don’t.”  
Her chest rose and fell with staggering breaths. “Who do you think I am?”  
A grim smile spread across his face. “Then you’re not denying it.”  
Her jaw clenched and she pulled the covers up higher, her knees drawing into her chest.  
“Who are you?”  
“I can’t.”  
“Then I can’t protect you,” he said, more harshly than he intended, but his wounded pride (and, he grudgingly would admit to himself later, heart) blurred through. He rose from the sofa and made to collect his shoes.  
“No, wait. Please. I -- I would tell you everything if I could. I want to. But I can’t.”  
He glanced around the room. “No one here but you and me. Spies are excellent at keep secrets.”  
“And they understand the importance of confidentiality, unless it’s information they want.” Her sharp tone caught him off guard and when he looked to her again, he saw the defiance in her eyes.  
He huffed, almost a laugh. “So you’re a spy, are you?”  
She pursed her lips and blinked several times. If she had been standing, she probably would have put a hand on her hip.  
“Thought not,” he answered for them both. “But you won’t tell me anything more?”  
“If you were in my position, you wouldn’t.”  
“Know me that well do you?”  
“I know your type.”  
“Really?” He hadn’t realized he’d stepped toward her until her posture relaxed and she gave him a once over.  
“Doesn’t matter how much if any of the truth I give you, you’ll run anyway.”  
“Then give me a reason not to.”  
She opened her mouth, then closed it. Her jaw clenched again and tears welled in her eyes. She lowered her gaze from him and bent her head. Again he saw her vulnerability and somewhat against his surface desires, he felt an impulse not to run, but to bring her into his arms.  
“You won’t admit to needing my protection, then?” His tone softened and he took another step toward her.  
She laughed, hollow and low. “You really think I could survive this on my own?”  
“Kate, I-- shit. I dont even know what to call you.”  
He turned from her and sighed, eyeing his shoes. She murmured something and he looked back. Her head was still bent and he saw a tear drop from her cheek onto the sheets.  
“What was that?”  
“Imogen,” she said. “Ginny, for my friends.”  
“Of whom you have many, I’m sure.”  
“No,” she cut in. “Not really any. Not anymore.”  
He stilled. “Did you kill Kate Miller?”  
Her head shot up, eyes wounded and accusing. “Is that what you think this is? I killed her and took her place?” Her head shook, then she bowed her head again as her lip started to tremble. “Now I know what you really think of me at least.”  
“Any reason I shouldn’t.”  
“I thought -- last night…”  
“Was a lie. A pretty one. Enjoyable, too. But a lie all the same.”  
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”  
Even wounded she struck at him, deeper than words. He felt an ache shoot through his chest. He strode to the bed, clamouring up and moving to her. He tilted her chin to meet his gaze. “Who are you?”  
She glared back at him. Even through her tears she held her defiance. He released her, then settled to a more casual seated position beside her. They remained silent for a moment, save for the occasional sniff from her. Her reached for a tissue on what had been his side of the bed and handed it to her. She took it without looking to him and wiped her nose.  
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that about last night. It wasn’t -- it isn’t a lie. It has been at times before, with others, but you… Ginny, hmm?”  
She nodded, crumpling the tissue in her hand.  
“Where are you from?”  
“London, Ontario.”  
“Canadian?”  
“Yeah.”  
“The states let Canadians into their services?”  
“On occasion.”  
He nodded. This was progressing alright now. If he could just figure out what she was doing impersonating an American debutante, he might be able to put this to rest for the time being. “Would you like some coffee? Tea? I’ll get your robe.”  
“I -- thank you. Tea would be lovely.”  
He plucked the tissue from her hand, being careful to not touch her fingers with his, afraid of the intimate feelings he knew would stir when he touched her again. He moved off the bed, dropping the tissue in a bin as he made his way to the desk with the kettle. He went to the bathroom, filling up the kettle and grabbing her robe from a hook. Coming out, he moved toward the bed, tossing the robe on it, then went to prepare the tea. He heard her shuffling from bed and padding to the bathroom. The door closed and he breathed a sigh, whether it was of relief or anguish he wasn’t certain.  
When she emerged, her face was a bit red, but clean and dry. The robe was tied snugly around her form, and her hair splayed in waves to her mid back. He took her in with a glance and grit his teeth. How dare she be so rational in not revealing her identity, and how dare she expose her vulnerability to him. How dare she make him ache to make her problems his, to cherish her as much as he protected her. How dare her eyes defy his prodding while also begging forgiveness. Could she not be callous or cold? Could she not pretend their attachment was simply a necessity of circumstance?  
He handed her a mug of tea and she reached out to take it. He noted she voided touching his hand as well. Whether out of fear of intimacy or genuine fear, he couldn’t be certain.  
“Thank you,” she said with a weary smile, and he nodded. She moved toward the smaller couch and then shifted away, pacing around the room. Taking a tentative sip of the tea, he moved toward the large sofa, watching her as he sipped his tea as well. She stopped by the window, her eyes drifting to the landscape.  
“I suppose you’ll want to know everything.”  
“Not everything,” he mused. “I suspect that will take days. Perhaps months or years.”  
A huff escaped her before she took another sip.  
“You’re an agent of some kind. That much you’ve revealed. And if you didn’t harm Kate Miller, then you’ve replaced her for some reason.”  
“Astute.” She moved away from the window, back toward the desk with the coffee and tea items, running her fingers around the rim of the mug.  
“So where is the real Kate Miller?”  
She turned to look at him, no longer accusing or defensive. Her weariness shone through her gaze, but she had composed the rest of her body.“Safe. Secure in a new life.”  
He felt his knees weaken and he eased down onto the sofa. “So I’ve been guarding her bodyguard.”  
“More like decoy, but… yeah.”  
“Was this something you were ever going to tell me?”  
“I think you already know the answer to that.” He nodded. “Procedure aside… I wanted to. When I noticed your -- when I thought you might see me as more than just a job.”  
“When was that?”  
“You’re inquisitive,” she smirked.  
“Just wondering how much of my interest was in the real you.”  
She blinked a few times, then moved to sit in the other couch, as far away from him as she could sit, he noted. “Most of it, I hope. I spent two weeks with Kate to learn what I could, but I -- this isn’t my usual line of work.”  
“You could have fooled me. You did, in fact.”  
“You know how this all works,” she snapped. “I don’t. Do you know how many agents look like,” she gestured to her form, “this? Practically none. Dossiers I can fake. Documents and certain mannerisms, mimicking, fine. But I’m not a field agent. I’m not a spy. I just wanted to protect a girl who had no hope of being protected on her own.”  
He sat forward. “You made the dossier, didn’t you?”  
“It had to go through four levels of approvals, but yes.”  
“Is any of it you?”  
“Not much. What you’ve seen the past few weeks… some of that is.” She set the mug on the coffee table, keeping perched on the edge of the sofa cushion.  
He licked his lips, resisting the urge to move to her. “The humour, the inquisitiveness and intelligence, your adaptability around people… that’s you.”  
She nodded.  
“You’ve danced. You know languages.”  
“Yes, on both counts.”  
“How many do you actually speak?”  
“Fourteen.”  
He whistled low. “And last night -- your training.”  
“I’ve been through the basic agency training. And what I said about learning to shoot from childhood, that was all true.”  
“And never shooting someone before.”  
She hung her head, a section of hair falling forward to hide half her face. “I’ve never…”  
“I could tell. But your instincts. You didn’t hesitate. I’ve seen agents train for years and not be able to act when it counts.”  
“That almost sounds like admiration.”  
“It is.” He rose now, and moved to her, setting his mug close to hers on the table. He crouched before her and tilted her face to meet his gaze. “Why tell me now?”  
“Because I didn’t want to hide anymore and you were about to just leave and I thought you deserve to know that... I wanted to.” Her voice hitched and he swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. There’s no protocol for this, nothing except red flags in every manual telling you not to get emotionally attached in any job you do, which is absurd unless you’re someone who naturally doesn’t get attached to anything ever. I mean, eventually everyone finds something or someone worth forming an attachment to and all anyone ever tells you is don’t. No one says anything about what to do if it’s too late for don’t. If you’re so beyond don’t that you can’t think straight. If there’s anything beyond don’t, it’s get out, but not every scenario warrants an out. So when you do and you can’t just get out, then what?”  
She had tears in her eyes and he instinctively pressed forward and kissed high on her cheek. “Step one,” he said calmly, taking one of her hands in his. “Breathe.”  
He nodded and she complied.  
“Step two,” he shifted up on his heels. “Is this.”  
He pressed his lips to hers, lingering even as the tears slid down her cheeks. He pulled her to standing in his arms, wrapping her in an embrace.  
“You’re right. Everything in any training tells us not to land in this kind of situation, and if we do to run.” He took a step back, and cupped her face in one hand. “Do you see me running?”  
Her lip trembled, and she shook her head, very slightly.  
“Do you want to run?”  
“No,” she whispered.  
“Then we’ll sort out how to deal with this, together.”

**Author's Note:**

> TO BE CONTINUED...


End file.
